Dearg-due – lady in red

He knew when he first saw her that she was different to the others. She was stunning and there was something about her which seemed almost of a different world. She was certainly beautiful but not in the traditional way. Her hair was so dark and her skin so pale that it was captivating and he could barely pull his eyes from hers. Clichéd though it was, he felt himself melting into her, quite literally. The noise around about seemed to dull and the people slowed so that it was just her and him. He knew that his chances weren’t good but he had to talk to her.

“Your costume is great,” she said with a smile as he got closer.

He had come as a leprechaun as it was all he could think to fit with the theme, and was regretting that now.

“Yours too,” he said looking at the red dress she wore as a second skin.

She must have read something in his face so she helped him out of the hole he was digging.

“Dearg-due,” she said, almost in a whisper.

“Ahh, of course. The red blood sucker,” he replied with a laugh. “Brilliant!” he said then, relaxing a bit.

They talked for a while and danced, neither of them noticing much else beyond each other. And as the evening drew to a close, he worried that would be it. What would she want with someone like him? She was so far out of his league that it was hardly worth considering.

However, the stars must have been aligned in his favour, for she asked him to walk her home. And she reached for his hand in the crispness of the autumn evening as they made their way out of town and across the heath. He was wondering whether or not just to kiss her when she turned, pushing him roughly up against a tree, and kissed him first. It was firm and hard and he felt himself being drawn further and further into her spell. She aroused a need in him like he had never felt before and his cock hardened immediately in response to her. She must have felt it through the flimsy material of his costume and pressed her body even further into him.

“I want you,” she said in a tone which turned him to liquid.

He was usually quite self-assured but something about this woman turned him to putty. He felt shaky and weak and like he needed more and more of her. Usually the one to take control, he felt unfamiliar in this new role but it was like something about it just made sense. He wanted to submit to her. He wanted to please her and to be with her, to be owned and used by her. So when she shoved him to his knees and lifted her skirt, he was happy to oblige. He breathed in her scent as his face moved up to the bare skin where her stockings ended. He was so turned on his cock hurt and he pressed it into her leg as he moved his mouth upwards to suck on her.

She ground into him, almost fucking his face and he felt he would drown in her. He was losing all sense of time and place when her voice came again, commanding him.

“Stop!”

He froze where he was and waited.

“I want more,” she said. “I want more of you. I want all of you. Can you give me that?”

He wanted to shout that he did but somehow his voice came out in a thin trail, a small yes which seemed to fit this new position into which he had fallen so easily. And so it was on that heath he lost himself that night, the man dressed as a leprechaun, to the great Dearg-due. He gave her everything that he was as he slowly slipped into her.

Their lovemaking was like nothing he had every experienced before or felt he ever would again. No one else would match this and he hoped more than anything that this was not just some dream, as unreal as it felt. It seemed to last forever as she teased him and toyed with him. He seemed near to coming over and over again, hanging on the precipice of his own ecstasy as she edged him deeper and deeper into his own undoing. How she drew so much from him that night he did not know, and really he did not care. He had never before felt this sort of need as he hung on her every word and sound and his world became her. He seemed to start to drift away from himself and into her and he pushed deeper and deeper into her at her request.

It seemed impossible that he was feeling as he was. He lost all reasonable thought and became content just to drift in the essence of her and all that she was making him become. She scratched him and bit him and the deliciousness of the pain combined with the intoxication of the pleasure in a heady cocktail of desire that seemed to become all that he was for her. He was her toy, her play thing, and she aroused feelings within him he had never known before. He felt as if he was being reduced to his very core and was free at last of all that had ever held him back. And as she rode on top of him, she build him up to the greatest orgasm of his life. He screamed out in the dark night as she took all that she could from him, leaving him collapsed in a post orgasmic state of ecstasy as the world became red.

She held him then as she drained him and he lay in her arms, content just to be like this. He wanted nothing more than to rest with her awhile, and so he let go content in the haze which she was inducing.  She remained with him, Dearg-due until she had what she wanted and then, when it was over, she kissed him goodnight and left, disappearing back into the darkness where she belonged. And he lay there spent and still on the heathland. He did not think as his breathing became slower, so lost was he to the things of this world. And slowly in the blackness of the night it became shallower and shallower until, finally, it was gone.

Dearg-due, an Irish name meaning ‘red blood sucker’, is a female demon who seduces men and then drains them of their blood. According to the Celtic legend, an Irish woman who was known throughout the country for her beauty fell in love with a local peasant, which was unacceptable to her father. He forced her into an arranged marriage with a rich man who treated her terribly, and eventually, she committed suicide. She was buried near Strongbow’s Tree in Waterford, and one night, she rose from her grave to seek revenge on her father and husband, sucking their blood until they dropped dead. Now known as Dearg-due, the vampire rises once a year, using her beauty to lure men to their deaths.

Prompt #380: Red

If you have enjoyed reading this then you might like some of my other Twisted Myths and Legends:

Destiny and The Brownie

Can you see me?

The Capture of Astrid

Protect me and set me free

Desire of the dark: crossing the boundary

His Wild Woman